one very material point, in which I have misled you, as to the true cause of all this uproar amongst us, which does not take its rise, as I then told you, from the affair of the breeches, but, on the contrary, the whole affair of the breeches has taken its rise from it. To understand which you must know, that the first beginning of the squabble was not between John the parish clerk and Trim the sexton, but betwixt the parson* of the parish and the said Master Trim, about an old watch-coat that had hung up many years in the church, which Trim had set his heart upon; and nothing would serve Trim but he must take it home in order to have it converted into a warm under-petticoat for his wife; and a jerkin for himself against winter; which, in a plaintive tone, he most humbly begged his reverence would consent to.

I need not tell you, Sir, who have so often felt it, that a principle of strong compassion transports a generous mind sometimes beyond what is strictly right; the parson was within an ace of being an honourable example of this very crime-for no sooner did the distinct words-Petticoat-poor wife-warm-winter, strike upon the ear-but his heart warmed-and before Trim had well got to the end of his petition (being a gentleman of a frank open temper) he told him he was welcome to it with all his heart and soul.- -But Trim, says he, as you see I am but just got down to my living, and am an utter stranger to all parish matters, knowing nothing about this old watch-coat you beg of me, having never seen it in my life, and

* Abp. H-tt--en.

therefore cannot be a judge whether 'tis fit for such a purpose; or, if it is, in truth know not whether 'tis mine to bestow upon you or not-you must have a week or ten day's patience, till I can make some inquiries about it—and, if I find it is in my power, I tell you again, man, your wife is heartily welcome to an under-petticoat out of it, and you to a jerkin, were the thing as good again as you represent it.

It is necessary to inform you, sir, in this place, that the parson was earnestly bent to serve Trim in this affair, not only from the motive of generosity, which I have justly ascribed to him, but likewise from another motive, and that was, by making some sort of recompense for a multitude of small services which Trim had occasionally done, and indeed was continually doing (as he was much about the house) when his own man was out of the way. For all these reasons together, I say, the parson of the parish intended to serve Trim in this matter to the utmost of his power. All that was wanting, was previously to inquire if any one had a claim to it, or whether, as it had, time immemorial, hung up in the church, the taking it down might raise a clamour in the parish. These inquiries were the things that Trim dreaded in his heart-he knew very well, that, if the parson should but say one word to the churchwardens about it, there would be an end of the whole affair. For this and some other reasons, not necessary to be told you at present, Trim was for allowing no time in this matter--but, on the contrary, doubled his diligence and importunity at the vicarage-house-plagued the whole family to death

M

-pressed his suit, morning, noon, and night, and, to shorten my story, teased the poor gentleman, who was but in an ill state of health, almost out of his life about it.

You will not wonder when I tell you, that all this hurry and precipitation, on the side of Master Trim, produced its natural effect on the side of the parson, and that was, a suspicion that all was not right at the bottom.

He was one evening sitting alone in his study, weighing and turning this doubt every way in his mind; and after an hour and a half's serious deliberation upon the affair, and running over Trim's behaviour throughout- -he was just saying to himself-it must be so when a sudden rap at the door put an end to his soliloquy, and in a few minutes to his doubts toe; for a labourer in the town, who deemed himself past his fifty-second year, had been returned by the constables in the militia list-and he had come with a groat in his hand to search the parish register for his age. The parson bid the poor fellow put the groat into his pocket, and go into the kitchen-then shutting the study door, and taking down the parish register --who knows, says he, but I may find something here about this self-same watch-coat? He had scarce unclasped the book, in saying this, when he popped on the very thing he wanted, fairly wrote in the first page, pasted to the inside of one of the covers, whereon was a memorandum about the very thing in question, in these express wordsMemorandumThe great watch-coat was pur chased and given about two hundred years ago, by the lord of the manor, to the parish church, to the

sole use and behoof of the poor sexton thereof, and their successors for ever, to be worn by them respectively in winterly cold nights, in ringing complines, passing-bells, &c. which the said lord of the manor had done in piety to keep the poor wretches warm, and for the good of his own soul, for which they were directed to pray, &c.' Just Heaven! said the parson to himself, looking upwards, what an escape have I had? Give this for an under-petticoat to Trim's wife! I would not have consented to such a desecration to the primate of all England-nay, I would not have disturbed a single button of it for all my tithes.

Scarce were the words out of his mouth, when in pops Trim with the whole subject of the exclamation under both his arms—I say under both his arms-for he had actually got it ript and cut out ready, his own jerkin under one arm and the petticoat under the other, in order to carry to the tailor to be made up, and had just stepped in, in high spirits, to show the parson how cleverly it had held out.

There are now many good similies subsisting in the world, but which I have neither time to recollect or look for, which would give you a strong conception of the astonishment and honest indignation, which this unexpected stroke of Trim's impudence impressed upon the parson's looks-let it suffice to say, that it exceeded all fair description as well as all power of proper resentment— except this, that Trim was ordered, in a stern voice, to lay the bundles down upon the table-to go about his business, and wait upon him, at his peril, the next morning at eleven precisely.

Against this hour, like a wise man, the parson had sent to desire John, the parish-clerk, who bore an exceeding good character, as a man of truth, and who, having moreover a pretty freehold of about eighteen pounds a year in the township, was a lealing man in it; and upon the whole, was such a one, of whom it might be said, that he rather did honour to his office than his office did honour to him-him he sends for, with the churchwardens, and one of the sidesmen, a grave knowing old man, to be present-for, as Trim had withheld the whole truth from the parson touching the watchcoat, he thought it probable he would as certainly do the same thing to others. Though this, I said, was wise, the trouble of the precaution might have been spared-because the parson's character was unblemished-and he had ever been held by the world in the estimation of a man of honour and integrity. Trim's character, on the contrary, was as well known, if not in the world, at least in all the parish, to be that of a little, dirty, pimping, pettifogging, ambidextrous fellow-who neither cared what he did or said of any, provided he could get a penny by it. This might, I said, have made any precaution needless - -but you must

know, as the parson had in a manner but just got down to his living, he dreaded the consequences of the least ill impression on his first entrance among his parishioners, which would have disabled him from doing the good he wished so that out of regard to his flock, more than the necessary care due to himself, he was resolved not to lie at the mercy of what resentment might vent, or malice lend an ear to.